Raw Prune Brownies

As I entered the kitchen through the formal dining room, I spotted my father at the kitchen table, hunched over his lunch. It was a plate containing steamed broccoli, baked fish and some rice. He sat there, watching my brother douse his plate of lettuce with Ranch dressing.
"Don't add too much," he advised, "It's not good for the heart."

My father underwent heart surgery at the age of 47. For a year or two before that, his doctor had been advising him to consume whole, nutritious foods and to eat out less often; due to his work, however, he was routinely absent from the family table during dinners, and even, as I later found out from my mother, during breakfast and lunch. Since my brothers and I were in school for the majority of the day, we noticed but didn't really agonize over his empty seat at the dinner table.

"He probably has another dinner he has to host tonight," I'd say to my two brothers.
"Yeah, work requires a lot of socializing and networking," they'd hurriedly agree.

And then we'd continue savoring the delicious spread of vegetables and pan-seared salmon that my mother had freshly prepared.

When I turned ninteen years old, I had my heart thoroughly broken. It was the first time that I experienced such bothersome sorrow, and in spite of my dear friends' attempts to launch me out of my heartache by introducing me to other men and reassuring me with, "You'll forget about him as soon as you find a rebound," I chose to stay home instead and alternate between studying, listening to music and sleeping. I'd come downstairs for meals, help set the table and take comfort in the presence of my mother; she understood how I felt.

It was during these three daily meals that I started to notice how my father was either absent for all three or elsewhere during lunch and dinner. He didn't have time for breakfast, either; as my mother and I calmly enjoyed our fresh fruits, teas, oatmeal, my father would hurry downstairs, dressed in his professional clothes, grab a coffee and run. He and my mother had spats over this, as she usually insisted on him having breakfast before leaving the house.

"You are not setting a good example for your children by skipping out on breakfast!" she'd call after my father, who was by now, backing his car out of the driveway, coffee mug in his left hand.

Since he didn't have meals at home, he'd inhale his food between meetings, usually grabbing something quick and portable from Burger King or McDonald's. Would my father grab a salad to eat with a fork in the car? Probably not. His choices were the usual: burgers, "healthy" sandwiches, etc. He was never really the type to pay attention to the ingredients, either; he didn't know the the white stuff glopped onto his "healthy" chicken sandwich was actually mayo, full of fat and cholestrol. He was surprised when I told him this, but his surprise soon turned into skepticism. For some reason, he believed that the mayo on his sandwich must not have been "made like traditional mayonnaise, because otherwise, they wouldn't have covered the entire piece of chicken in it. It's too unhealthy."

Around Spring of that year, my father returned to Taiwan. When he got off the plane, he made his routine phone call to us in San Diego. I was sitting on the kitchen island when my mother picked up the phone, and after a minute or two, she surprised me by hanging up. I looked over at her.
"Did Dad arrive safely?"

"Yes," she answered, staring intently at the receiver in her hand. "But he says that he can't really breathe and he's so tired... so he hung up."

I looked over at her in alarm. Needing consolation, I probed, "But he's okay, right?"

My mother didn't answer.

A couple of months later, my mother told me that my father had to have emergency heart surgery in Taiwan. As she threw clothes, shoes, vitamins into her suitcases, she asked me to take care of my middle brother and pay attention to finances and bills and letters mailed to the house. With that, she kissed me on the cheek, grabbed my youngest brother and waved frantically as the taxi sped out to the airport.

My father's heart surgery went well. My mother had called me right after to tell me that "everything was OK," although I later found out that there had been complications so severe that my father, with a steadily dropping blood pressure, had been hurried into the ICU.

When he returned home, he took a sudden interest in nutrition. He would say things like, "nuts are pretty high in fat," which to him, was completely new information. Because of his doctor's orders to avoid foods high in fat, he has been unable to taste a lot of the sweet items that he enjoyed when he was younger. He loves brownies and chocolates.

So when I entered the kitchen yesterday and spotted him talking to my brother about nutrition, I decided to try and make something that would be nutritious and healthier than a usual brownie. Since I didn't have dates on hand, I decided to use these delicious, creamy prunes from Newman's Own Organics instead; these prunes are the best ones I've ever tasted. They're so buttery, thick and silky smooth at the same time.

I took some prunes, chopped them up and threw them into my mini food processor. Afraid that they'd be a little too tangy, I chopped up some of Newman's Own Organics* dried apricots and threw that in, too. I whipped it into a paste, and the combination of apricots and prunes made it a perfect sweet and slightly tart base. I took a tiny baby spoon and put in a few spoonfuls of raw cacao powder and drizzled in some raw agave nectar. After further processing, it formed into this brownie-like batter. I took spoonfuls of batter, rolled them into little balls and then whirled them around on a bed of unsweetened shredded coconut. I dehydrated these at 105 overnight, until the balls were not sticky on the outside.

Inside was still gooey, so chocolatey and creamy, and it tasted like a wonderful fudge brownie. My brothers, who usually stick with dessert items such as chocolate chip cookies and ice creams, both really enjoyed this concoction; one liked the chocolate flavor, the other liked the coconut mixed in. My mother, who only likes desserts that she remembers from her childhood, called out to me, "This is really good." My dad was really surprised and loved it, since he can now get his chocolate fix. And I'm happy, because I now know that my father can occasionally indulge in sweets without risking his health.

The batter would've been fine if it weren't dehydrated. If refrigerated until firm, the brownie would be similar to fudge.

Enjoy.


* I am by no means sponsored by Newman's Own Organics. I just love their products. They really do have the best dried prunes, cranberries and apple rings that I've tasted. Their creamy prune texture is what makes this brownie so rich and decadent.